


hazy days

by haetae



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Communication, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 01:32:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17173301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haetae/pseuds/haetae
Summary: A shadow looms over Masaki’s face. He blinks out the strange dots in his eyes from staring at the sun for too long and finds a wryly grinning Thancred hovering over his head.“Might I ask what you’re doing out here in this lovely weather?”





	hazy days

**Author's Note:**

> before i combust out of shame i just want to clear up any confusion—
> 
> masaki’s REAL name is mongke but he goes by masaki because momodi misread his name and introduced him as masaki to everyone so he kind of went with it. 
> 
> anyway enjoy jdhdkdbd

It’s blazing hot.

Masaki is stripped down to a loose tank top and a pair of short shorts but still he struggles to get even a single ice spell working under this awful heat. Everyone else is either in a similar state of dress or, if they’re sensible enough, staying inside where the stone walls and floors will keep them cool. Unfortunately, Masaki is more determined to work himself to the bone with his training than doing other sensible things like avoiding a heatstroke.

Eorzean summers, as Masaki quickly learned, aren’t anything like the summers of his youth. Muggy heat is a different beast altogether—where dry heat gives way to chilly nights, the heat here stays like an unwelcome guest who’s had a few too many drinks and keeps regaling tall tales of glorious exploits while everyone within vicinity tries to toss the guest out as politely as possible. It’s caused many a night full of tossing and turning and sweating and overall inconvenience. Hence, the whole reason why Masaki is out here today: training his umbral ice magic so he can somehow enchant his blankets to stay cool throughout the night.

He grumbles when the aether between his fingers putters out again.

So far, he’s had little success.

Masaki harrumphs and kicks at the ground a little before he flops over on his side. The unforgiving sun warms his already heated skin and Masaki tiredly wipes his sweaty brow. At any other time, he might’ve relished in this heat but, after three consecutive nights of uncomfortable sweating, he thinks he should punch out the sun somehow. Maybe it’s like Dalamud in the sense that it houses yet another terrible primal? Hm. All the more reason to punch out the sun if it’s to defeat whatever evil is lurking behind that terrible, all-encompassing light.

A shadow looms over Masaki’s face. He blinks out the strange dots in his eyes from staring at the sun for too long and finds a wryly grinning Thancred hovering over his head.

“Might I ask what you’re doing out here in this lovely weather?”

Masaki grumbles out something unintelligible and rolls over to his other side.

Thancred nods understandingly.

“Hmm, yes I see. Well, I have a suggestion: how about we get you somewhere cooler so you don’t burn to a crisp out here?”

Masaki makes another vague noise.

“Whine all you want but I’m not leaving you out here to wither away in the sun. Come now, up.”

Masaki groans as he lets Thancred haul him to his feet and drag him to inside the Rising Stones where it’s less sweltering. Except there’s definitely a few more bodies than expected since everyone is clamoring for a cool drink to escape from the ever-present heat. The poor bartender looks haggard as he scrambles around, filling orders and dishing out drinks. Masaki wrinkles his nose at the stifling humidity of crowded, sweaty bodies. Luckily, he can use his height to his advantage and cut through a swathe of lethargic patrons towards the back of the bar. Thancred doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of this either.

Once both are inside the much less crowded (empty) space of the Rising Stones’ headquarters, they breathe a collective sigh of relief. It looks as though everyone is out for training, missions, or other personal matters. Masaki breaks apart first to stumble into a chair and groan miserably. Thancred snorts and takes a seat next to him. He notices the gleam of sweat still lingering on Masaki’s forehead.

“You need a bath.” He says decidedly.

Masaki hums and lazily opens an eye to look up at Thancred.

“M’too tired,” he complains. Then he goes back to resting his eyes.

Well. That simply won’t do.

So Thancred leans forward, trailing a hand up Masaki’s forearm, and murmurs in a low purr, “Perhaps you’d like it if I joined you?”

Masaki nearly falls out of his chair at that and Thancred feels a shit-eating grin tug at his lips. He laughs through a “light” punch to his shoulder (hiding a wince) as Masaki sticks his tongue out at him childishly.

Thancred takes advantage of that to press against Masaki in an open-mouthed kiss, gently sucking on his tongue and tracing the line of his neck up to the scales adorning his jaw with a finger. Much to Thancred’s pleasant surprise, Masaki responds enthusiastically in return by wrapping his arms around Thancred and pulling him in even closer. His head feels thick and light—maybe it’s the damned heat leaking in or how determined Masaki seems in paying back Thancred tenfold for his teasing. Of course, he can hardly complain.

They reluctantly part to catch their breaths. Even then, they steal breathless kisses from each other as they regain their breaths.

“Would you like to…?”

Masaki considers this in between pecks and nips.

“Jus’ wanna bathe alone,” he murmurs, “but… fuck after m’done.”

Thancred groans at that and at the bite Masaki gifts him on his lip. He returns the favor, relishing in the whispery moan rumbling in the back of Masaki’s throat, and kisses the hollow in between his collarbones. Masaki hums in contentment as he rakes his fingers through Thancred’s hair. He can’t help but lean into the touch and let his eyes flutter shut.

“Alright,” he murmurs. Then he opens his eyes and nips at warm skin, earning himself a cute yelp from Masaki. His voice lowers into a husky murmur. “Shall we retire to my room for the moment, at least?”

Masaki flashes a sharp canine in a slanted smirk.

“No teasing,” he warns halfheartedly.

Thancred gasps and lays a hand over his chest, affronted.

“Why, Masaki,” he says, “I’m _hurt_ that you assume I would be so _un_ gentlemanly.”

Masaki levels him with a flat look.

“Alright, _fine_ , I solemnly swear I’ll play nice.” Thancred grouches but the hidden smile in his eyes takes the bite out of his tone.

Then he smiles for real when Masaki bursts into delighted laughter and kisses him.

They can’t keep their hands or lips off each other the entire walk to Thancred’s room. Once the lock clicks closed behind them, Masaki is eager to divest Thancred of his clothes and Thancred is just as enthusiastic to do the same for him. Halfway through their mutual undressing, Masaki pulls away to catch his breath.

“Wait,” Masaki murmurs against his lips. Thancred pulls away reluctantly and looks at him. Is he hurt? Does he feel too pressured? Before Thancred can give voice to his worries, Masaki slips his top over his head and flings it aside with a breathless laugh.

“Need to clean up. ‘M too stinky.” he giggles.

Thancred traces Masaki’s chest scars with reverent fingers and presses a chaste kiss over his beating heart. He sighs and runs his fingers through Thancred’s hair.

“I’ll miss you,” Thancred bemoans theatrically. Masaki snorts and giggles as his boyfriend nuzzles his bare chest. “Hurry back, dear.”

“Okay, okay…”

Masaki kisses Thancred’s head and smooths out his pale hair before, very reluctantly, breaking apart from him. Thancred watches in agony as his lover slips off the rest of his clothes and swaggers to his bathroom with his bare body on full display. (Well, not in _complete_ agony. After all, he’s getting a free show.) When the door shuts behind Masaki, Thancred flops back on his bed with a dramatic sigh. He hears the water turn on.

Now here comes the awkward decision: does he… relieve himself for a short few moments while his lover is cleaning up or does he wait patiently and read erotica in the meantime? He drums his fingers against his bare chest in thought before finally rolling over to his nightstand and pulling out a bottle of lube. Can’t hurt to have some fun by himself, no?

Thancred jerks when he hears a low moan coming from the bathroom. Lube forgotten, he slips off his bed and hurriedly knocks on the door.

“Masaki? _Mongke?_ Mongke, is everything alright—”

“ _‘M fine jus’ touching myself._ ” an equally panicked voice squeaks over the sound of rushing water.

Thancred blinks stupidly for a while. His brain must’ve shorted out.

“Pardon?”

“ _Said_ ,” Mongke stops and swallows, “ _‘m touching myself._ ”

 _Oh_ , Thancred thinks. His voice lowers into a low purr, “Well. Why don’t you come out so I can help you? You can bathe afterwards…”

He hears mumbling, a whimper, then the water cuts off. Thancred waits as patiently as his hardening cock can and suddenly the bathroom door opens to a flustered Mongke with damp hair and water rivulets still dripping down his bare skin. Immediately, he scoops up Mongke by the thighs as Mongke wraps his arms around Thancred’s neck and legs around his waist.

Thancred leans his head up to keep Mongke’s eager mouth busy and walks backwards to his bed. Then he turns to set his lover down with a grunt. With a mournful sigh, he pulls away to pull off his pants and smallclothes. Mongke watches him with an interested twitch of his tail and hooded, bright eyes as Mongke scoots farther up on the bed. Thancred follows, bewitched by those bright eyes, on his hands and knees until he’s draped across Mongke.

His lover wriggles underneath him, a sly smile quirking his kiss-swollen lips, and gently tugs on Thancred’s eyepatch. He allows it with another deep kiss and doesn’t flinch when he feels the dark cloth fall away. Warm hands cups his face as Mongke regards him with intense, bright eyes that burn right through his soul. _Gods_ Mongke will be the death of him.

“C’mon,” Mongke goads, biting at Thancred’s lips. “I wanna fuck.”

Thancred groans in spite of himself and grinds against Mongke’s hips, eliciting a full-body shudder and whimper from him.

“Excuse me,” Thancred hums, sliding down Mongke’s body and hooking his lover’s legs over his shoulders, “if I want to take my time _admiring_ you.” He looks up from his place in between Mongke’s legs. “I mean, you’re just _unfairly_ pretty.”

He likes the way Mongke erupts into a cute shade of red at that. Thancred grins and kisses his inner thigh. Mongke turns away to hide his blush.

With his attention successfully distracted, Thancred spreads him open with his thumbs. Masaki yelps and subsequently melts, curling his fingers in Thancred’s hair with a shuddery sigh that sends tingles up his spine.

“You’re so _wet_ ,” he marvels. He tilts his gaze up to see Mongke shrinking into the pillow.

“Thas,” Mongke mutters half into the pillow, half towards Thancred, “fr’m th’bath.”

From the bath, he says. Thancred chuckles, low and warm, and lets his breath fan over his lover’s wetness just to see him squirm.

“ _Thancred_ ,” Mongke hisses. He tugs on Thancred’s hair as a silent warning.

So Thancred decides to take pity on Mongke and presses his lips against him. His response is immediate—Mongke sighs and arches his back, tilting his hips further towards Thancred like he is the sun.

“ _More_ ,” is all Mongke can gasp out and how can Thancred deny him?

He uses fingers and tongue to coax more pleasured noises—more delighted gasps and breathy moans—from Mongke’s kiss-swollen lips. By no means is Mongke _loud_ in bed but, bless the Twelve above, he is noisy and Thancred loves how his voice hitches and the little noises he makes when he mouths at a particularly sensitive spot. He feels fingers tighten in his hair and heels dig into his back. Mongke’s thighs tremble around him—poor darling must be restraining himself so much.

He curls his fingers just right and Mongke tenses, taut like a bowstring, and _groans_. It is a sound that makes all the blood in Thancred’s body head straight down to his groin. Mongke tugs at his hair roughly—nails scraping pleasantly against his scalp, little pinpricks of pain heightening his senses—and squeezes around Thancred’s fingers. Thancred can’t help but shudder along with Mongke as he swallows around his release and Mongke comes down from his high.

Gently pulling away, he licks his lips and Mongke looks at him with glazed over eyes.

“C’mere.” he says, lifting a limp hand towards Thancred. He rolls his eyes fondly and obliges—only to find himself on his back with a fanged grin nipping at his lips. (He distantly realizes his sheets are damp.)

“My turn.” Mongke practically singsongs as he curls his hand around Thancred’s cock and _oh_ he’s getting better at handjobs. Thancred fists the (damp) sheets underneath him and jerks when Mongke somehow makes stars explode behind his eyes with a single motion of his fingers. His eyes are bright, bright, _bright_ with love and mischief and Thancred groans when Mongke ducks his head to lick at the beading tip.

He comes embarrassingly fast after that. Mongke lets out a disappointed whine and pulls off of Thancred’s length with a pout that looks far too innocuous considering what he’d been doing mere heartbeats ago. Well, Thancred could _probably_ make a comment about that but he’s too busy recollecting the shattered remains of his sanity. He clings to Mongke and Mongke obliges him with kisses, curling up beside him. (Just now, he remembers Mongke didn’t towel himself from the bath before flopping all over his nice sheets.)

“Good?” he murmurs. Another kiss to his scruffy chin.

“ _Yes_ you did so well. Give me but a moment,” Thancred huffs. “And we’ll go back to fucking. Making love. Whichever you want.”

Mongke laughs quietly and presses another soft kiss to Thancred’s jaw. “We c’n stop here, if you wanna.”

“Do you?”

Mongke is quiet for a few heartbeats, then, “No. Do you?”

And Thancred rolls them over so he’s hovering over Mongke again and grins warmly at him.

“No.”

Then he kisses him breathless.

Mongke curls his arms around him and kisses him back as Thancred hooks his arms under Mongke’s legs. He fumbles for a moment but—Mongke gasps into his mouth when he slides home and he feels so _lost_ in that wet warmth.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself before he slowly pulls out, almost all the way, and thrusts back into Mongke _hard_ and Mongke’s whimper tells Thancred he’s doing something right. Hitching Mongke’s legs higher on his waist, he shifts the angle and watches Mongke shudder under him. Those bright eyes sear into Thancred with the intensity of the sun when Mongke hisses out, “ _Move_ ,” like his life depends on it, but, really, Thancred is in no mood to hurry this along when he’d humiliated himself earlier. His pride is on the line.

Mongke throws his head back at a particularly harsh thrust with a stuttered moan. (Thancred’s ego soars at that and he can’t bring himself to bite back the sharp smirk teasing his lips.)

“Say _please_ and I might,” Thancred grits out, deciding he’s perfectly content to stay sheathed in Mongke, “listen.”

He watches Mongke bunch the sheets in clenched fists and hisses when Mongke squirms. _Gods_ that shouldn’t feel so _good_.

And then he finds himself on his back again because Thancred apparently poked a sleeping lion with a very pointy stick and Mongke looms over him, scorching heat and all, and briefly pins him to the bed by his wrists. His larger frame almost envelopes Thancred’s. All the warning he gets is a fanged grin that Mongke wears in battle.

He sets a much faster, more brutal pace.

Powerful thighs frame Thancred’s waist as Mongke lifts and falls atop his cock, almost _snarling_ , and Thancred can’t help but follow along, thrusting into Mongke every time he comes down. Oh, but the way Mongke stares at Thancred like he’s the only person left in the world and the way he closes his eyes in utter, utter bliss could drive a lesser man to his knees. Thancred grips Mongke’s thighs and pushes himself up so that Mongke can sit in his lap. He pulls him close, bites at his lips, his neck, his chest, closes his mouth around a nipple, and sucks hard.

Mongke’s thrusts falter as he whimpers. Thancred wraps his arms around him, readjusts his hips, and _thrusts_ up. Mongke cries out, the first loud noise he’s made in a while, and collapses against Thancred. He happily takes the reins and changes the pace again, this time hurrying towards their climax. He focuses on the nails scratching red lines down his back, on fangs digging into the crook of his neck, on that glorious heat that seems to encompass all of Mongke. His head feels like it’s floating, thick with cottony haze, and he absentmindedly presses a thumb against Mongke’s nub to help him along. His response is a beautiful arch of his back and a gasping moan.

Mongke comes first, thank the Twelve, before Thancred follows after with a shuddering groan.

They fall back against the bed, catching their breaths, and wince when Thancred carefully slides out of Mongke.

Thancred plays the part of the dutiful boyfriend as he crawls out of bed to grab a dampened towel to clean up with (and a big soft towel as buffer against damp sheets) and watches Mongke carefully for any signs of discomfort. Luckily, Mongke just grunts and flaps at him to hurry back to bed. He smiles and makes short work of the mess they’ve made before tossing the dirtied towel elsewhere.

“C’mon, up,” he murmurs, “you’ve made a mess of the bed and now we must sleep on towels.”

Mongke snorts but obediently flops out of the way long enough for Thancred to drape the big fluffy towel over his sheets. He can take care of those tomorrow, maybe.

He lies down as Mongke rolls over to make room for him. They curl up around each other, exchanging sweet kisses and sighs.

“… Still stinky?” Mongke drowsily murmurs.

Thancred runs his clean fingers through Mongke’s drying hair. “No, you’re just a little wet.”

Mongke smacks him on the shoulder for that.

 

 

 


End file.
